


Before Sunrise

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Community: spn_cinema, Crossdressing, Genderfluid Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: They meet on a train to Paris. Written for SPN_Cinema and based on the film Before Sunrise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the images are screencaps I took from the film, and the others are from [this site](http://www.rappler.com/move-ph/139391-d5-studio-ph-representative-editors-lab-final-vienna) by a fan who's recreated the characters' walks through Vienna.
> 
> I imagined Jared as a genderfluid person who uses male pronouns. The character is not meant to be representative of any identity or community.

1.

 _Just for a couple more minutes,_ Jared tells himself, looking at his reflection in the waist-length mirror above the sink. The train rocks as it races forward, and Jared braces himself for a moment against the door of the small, cramped toilet.

He’d gone in to change, but the dress fits just right. Its scooped neck hides his flat chest, gentle ripples of cloth falling away from his bare shoulders, the skirt neat and long, swirling down to his calves. He pulls a brush carelessly through his shoulder-length hair, combing it back from his forehead, and then bends over at the waist to shake it out before tossing his head back, letting his hair fall around his face in waves.

A couple more minutes turns into more like fifteen. When he steps out of the toilet he’s in his rumpled jeans and black t-shirt with a Nirvana decal on the front, looking like any other teenager.

 

2.

 

He gets a coffee to go from the lounge car and makes his way back to his seat, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The book he’s been reading is still on the seat where he left it, and the compartment has even fewer people in it than when he’d left it to go change. Jared doesn’t look at anyone, slipping back into his seat.

He takes a few warming sips of coffee, letting the caffeine hit slowly. His iPod switches to a CCR track and he hums along softly, looking around at nothing in particular. Then he picks up his book and sinks back into it.

A few minutes later, he tugs off his earphones and looks up from his book. ‘What?’ he says.

‘You talking to me?’ the man across the aisle from him asks, looking startled.

‘You’ve been staring at me.’

‘Uh, sorry.’ The guy waves in the direction of the book. ‘I could’ve sworn I saw someone else with that book.’

‘Yeah, uh. It was just, uh. Lying there. Didn’t figure anyone would mind if I borrowed it.’

‘And flipped through straight to the middle?’ The man raises his eyebrows.

Jared flushes. ‘Look, why don’t you just mind your own business?’

The guy shrugs. ‘Keep your panties on, man. I didn’t mean any harm. You wanna dress up as a girl in your spare time, I’ve got nothing against that sort of kinky shit.’

He leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. 

‘Jerk,’ Jared mutters, getting up and grabbing his bag.

The guy opens his eyes. They’re a vivid green. ‘Don’t leave on my account,’ he says, sounding almost amused.

‘Glad I could give you a laugh,’ Jared says, his temper flaring. He starts off down the aisle.

‘Hey,’ Green Eyes calls after him, and Jared stops despite himself. ‘What?’ he snaps, not turning around.

‘Look, I’m—I’m sorry, all right? I wasn't laughing at you. I swear. It’s just—I wasn't judging, I swear, okay?’

‘Whatever,’ Jared says, waving off the apology.

‘You forgot this.’ 

Jared turns around to find the guy holding his disposable cup of coffee. It has a bit of a lipstick stain on the rim, and Jared rubs at his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Truce?’ The guy says, holding out the cup. On his feet, he has an inch or so on Jared, who, at eighteen, is six foot one and not quite done growing yet.

Jared inhales, trying to take stock of himself. He tells himself every so often not to lost his temper with people, but it doesn’t always work, especially in situations when he’s already wound up.

‘Whatever,’ he says again, less aggressively this time. He takes the cup and swallows a gulp, more to ground himself than anything else.

‘That’s a good one,’ Green Eyes says somewhat cautiously, nodding toward the book Jared’s still holding. _The Berlin Novels_.

‘You’ve read Isherwood?’ Jared’s so surprised that he forgets he’s in the middle of storming out.

Crinkles appear at the corners of the other man’s eyes, making his already good-looking face ridiculously attractive. He nods, gesturing to the book again. ‘And that’s an especially good one to read on a train.’

 _Mr. Norris Changes Trains_ is the first story in the book. It’s a subtle way to let Jared know that he’s familiar with the book without coming off as condescending or manipulative, and Jared finds himself thawing a little in appreciation.

The middle-aged couple who’ve been bickering throughout the journey pick that moment to get even louder, and even though Jared’s German isn’t that great, he still doesn’t want to spend the last day of his vacation listening to them fight.

As though reading his mind, his companion says, ‘I was thinking of going to the lounge car, if you’d care for a refill.’

 

3.

 

‘This place is more sophisticated than most of the restaurants I go to.’

Jared lets out a laugh. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Palo Alto. Stanford, really, but I have an off-campus apartment.’

‘Really? I’ve been thinking of applying to Stanford.’

‘Please do. I’m probably starting grad school next year, and I’d love to have you around.’

‘What do you study?’

‘Guess.’

‘English major?’

‘Got it in one. What gave me away?’

‘You mean other than your knowledge of semi-obscure gay writers from the early twentieth century?’

‘Does that mean you’re an English major too?’

‘I hope to be. I’m still in high school.’

‘Wow. I, uh… please tell me you're eighteen?’

‘What difference does it make?’

‘It does, believe me.’

‘If I said I wasn’t, what would you do?’

‘Probably still keep sitting here.’

‘I turned eighteen three months ago.’

‘Yes! There is a god.’

‘You’re hilarious.’

‘I think I’m adorable.’

 

—

 

Over a shared piece of chocolate cake, Jared asks, ‘So what’s your story? Other than being a student at Stanford.’

His companion shrugs. ‘Whatever you want it to be.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I mean you won’t ever see me again, right? So I can be whoever you want me to be.’

‘How about you start with a name?’

After a moment, the man says: ‘Jensen.’

‘Did you just make that up?’

Jensen snags a bit of cake from Jared’s side of the plate. ‘Maybe,’ he says with a grin.

Shaking his head, Jared can’t help but grin back. ‘I’m Jared.’

‘Did _you_ just make that up?’

‘No. But you’ll never know, will you? I could be a liar. Or a serial killer.’

‘So could I. You have chocolate sauce on your lip.’ Jensen touches his own mouth. ‘May I?’

‘You’re polite for a serial killer.’ Jared leans in so Jensen can swipe his thumb over his bottom lip.

‘Have to be.’ Jensen licks the sauce off his thumb. ‘How else will I charm my victims into trusting me?’ His gaze drops to the pendant Jared’s wearing. ‘ _Doctor Who_ fan?’

‘Obviously. You?’

‘Nah. Too much hype around it.’

‘Snob.’

‘Brat. So what do you want to be when you grow up?’

‘Be a better version of myself. Someday.’

Jensen ponders his words for a moment, licking at his fork in a way that’s very distracting. ‘But aren’t we all changing all the time?’

‘So?’

‘So, you could be a better version of yourself without even trying. If we could jump ahead in time and see the people we've become, we wouldn’t even be able to recognise ourselves when we meet again, much less each other.’ As the train starts to slow down, Jensen glances out of the window. The train is pulling into Westbahnhof station, Vienna. ‘This is my stop. And I have an idea that’s kind of crazy. But hear me out, okay?’

 

—

 

There’s a place Jared goes to in his head when things get hard to handle. He imagines himself with a sharp thorn in his side, deeply embedded, and thinks of slipping underwater. He sinks to the bottom and lets the water lap at him, easing the thorn out of his flesh and washing it away.

There are no thorns worrying at him today, and maybe it’s the reason he says yes to Jensen.

 

4.

 

 

‘Have you decided what you're going to study at grad school?’ Jared asks over Irish coffee at an outdoor cafe.

‘More lit,’ Jensen says with a grin. ‘I want to do a PhD after. Specialize in trauma narratives.’

‘Trauma narratives?’ 

‘Stories that talk about pain. But not just about pain, you know? Narratives in which trauma becomes something to be survived, but also something that leads to something else. Stories. Art.’

Jared looks at him, his hair as it catches the late afternoon sun, and wonders what traumas Jensen has suffered. He reaches across the table and curls his hand around Jensen’s, and Jensen lets him.

 

—

 

They kiss for the first time in the cramped seat of a tram.

‘Your turn,’ Jared says. 

‘I have an easy one. When was the first time you fell in love?’

‘Can’t say I ever have.’

‘Never?’

‘I’ve had crushes, I guess. Nothing that lasted more than a summer or a school term. And you?’

‘Ask me something easier.’

Jared studies his face. ‘Why is it difficult?’

Jensen shrugs. ‘Hey, there’s the museum. Let’s get off.’ He leans forward and Jared thinks he’s getting up, but then he cups Jared’s face in his hands and gives him a quick kiss. ‘Was that okay?’ he says against Jared’s lips.

Jared answers him with another kiss.

 

5.

 

 

‘Don’t think I didn’t notice you never answered my question,’ Jared says over beer and burgers in a pub. It’s dimly-lit and smoky, but he doesn’t mind.

‘Technically, it was my question.’ Jensen takes a large bite of his cheeseburger. ‘That veggie burger doing anything for you?’

Something prickles under Jared’s skin. He’s reminded of too many nights at the dinner table with his father and brother needling him about the ‘rabbit food’ he eats. ‘It’s fine,’ he says shortly, and immediately regrets his tone.

Jensen nudges his foot under the table. ‘Hey. Don’t get pissed.’

‘I’m not. I just…’

‘What?’

‘Sometimes I think I have this need to be nice to people, you know? Even if I don’t want to. Just so they like me. So they don’t… notice how grotesque I am.’

‘That’s a strong word. And you’re not. For the record.’

‘It’s how I feel most of the time.’

‘I’m going to call my roommate,’ Jensen says abruptly. He holds his thumb and finger to his ear, miming using a phone. ‘Ring, ring. Pick up the phone.’

‘Dork.’ Jared holds his own thumb and finger against his ear. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, Dani.’

‘Hi, Jensen.’

‘You’ll never guess where I am.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Well, you know Mike? The guy I blew all my savings on to meet in Spain?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Well, turns out he wasn’t that into me after all.’

‘Was he into someone else?’ Jared says softly into his make-believe phone, his gaze on Jensen’s face.

‘Yeah. Couldn’t get enough of the hot assistant at his archeology dig.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I met someone.’

‘That was fast.’

‘I wasn’t planning to. It just happened. He’s… fuck, Dani, he’s just incredible. He has these amazing eyes. I don’t even know what color they are. Chameleon eyes. And hair down to his shoulders. It looks so silky I’m dying to touch it, but I haven’t been brave enough.’

‘Yeah?’ It’s all Jared can say. He’s never felt more self-conscious, but not really in a bad way.

‘I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?’ Jensen ‘hangs up’ and nods to Jared. ‘Your turn.’

‘Hey, Genevieve.’

‘Jared! It’s so good to hear your voice!’ Jensen says in a terrible French accent.

‘I’m not playing if you keep doing that voice,’ Jared says warningly, and Jensen mimes zipping his mouth shut and gestures for him to continue.

‘How are you, Gen?’ Jared asks.

Jensen smiles, mouthing the word ‘Gen’ at him, and Jared has to smile too at the fact that his best friend’s nickname sounds exactly like a shortened version of Jensen’s. ‘Are you home yet?’ Jensen asks, using his normal voice.

‘Not yet. I, uh, I’m in Vienna.’

‘Vienna? Why?’

‘I met this guy and got off the train with him.’

‘What? Are you insane?’

‘Probably.’

‘So? What’s he like?’

‘He’s a total dork. Trips over his shoelaces all the time. Doesn’t like _Doctor Who_. Eats red meat like it’s going out of style.’

‘Ugh, he sounds awful. What the fuck are you doing with a creep like that?’

‘He’s super-hot?’

‘Oh, Jared. How many times have I told you to think with your upstairs brain?’

‘No, seriously. He looks like a Calvin Klein ad, you know? Eyes like… like Monet’s water-lilies. And he kisses like a dream.’

‘You _kissed_ him? Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

‘Not even a little.’

Jensen leans forward, his eyes serious. ‘Don’t let him take advantage of you, Jay.’

‘I… it doesn’t matter even if he does.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think—I think I’d let him bend me over in the washroom of this bar if he wanted to.’

Jensen sucks his breath in. ‘Jared—’

‘I think I’d let him do anything to me. And it’s okay, because he can’t hurt me. It’s just for a day, and then I’ll never see him again. He doesn’t have the power to hurt me.’

‘Is that how you’re looking at this whole thing? That you’re going to get hurt, but it’s okay because it’ll only be for a day?’ There’s anger in Jensen’s voice, but somehow Jared knows it’s not directed at him.

‘I’m not going to get hurt.’

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

‘I think so.’

Jensen starts moving his hand away from his ear, and Jared leans across the table to put his hand on Jensen’s wrist. ‘Don’t hang up yet. I want to tell you that… that I think I’m falling for him.’

Jensen doesn’t say anything, but he looks like he can’t tear his gaze away from Jared’s face.

‘I know I don’t know him, but maybe that’s part of the reason, you know? I can say anything to him because I know I’m safe. He… he knows about me, Gen. He saw me in my black dress. The one you helped me pick out last month, and the sales assistant was so weirded out that you wanted it in a size that was way too large for you.’

‘Go on,’ Jensen whispers.

‘After I hang up, I’m going to go and change into my dress. It’s like… it’s like we always say, you know? That we’re waiting for the soufflé to rise. And I don’t want to wait for this. For him. I want to show him all of me.’

‘Be careful, sweetheart.’

‘I’ll see you soon.’ 

Jensen slides across the seat before Jared has finished hanging up his pretend phone. ‘Gen doesn’t call me ‘sweetheart’,’ Jared says.

Jensen huffs out a laugh, his mouth pressed to Jared’s cheek. ‘Had to go and ruin the moment, didn’t you?’

Jared pushes his hands under Jensen’s jacket, sliding them up his sides, pressing against him in a quick hug. ‘Okay if I get changed?’

‘I can’t wait.’

 

6.

 

 

They walk arm in arm at the riverside, Jensen’s jacket over Jared’s shoulders. The moon is bright in the sky.

‘Do you believe in the afterlife?’ Jared asks.

‘Why do people always say _the_ afterlife?’ Jensen says. ‘It’s like saying there’s definitely an afterlife, and you’d be a fool not to believe in it.’

‘Okay, okay. Do you believe in _an_ afterlife?’

‘No. Next question.’

‘Hey, one word answers are not allowed.’

‘I made up this game, and I say they are.’ Jensen leans in close and kisses Jared’s lips as they walk. ‘My turn. When did you first have sexual feelings for someone?’

‘Sexual feelings? I guess I was like… thirteen? There was this guy who’d come in to clean my grandparents’ yard. We were in Texas on vacation. He was—don’t laugh—he was shaved all over. He had this bare golden chest and I was just done.’

‘Sounds like a Ken doll.’ Jensen doesn’t seem amused.

‘Are you jealous of a guy I had a one-sided crush on five years ago?’ Jared says with a grin.

‘Don’t be—’

‘Guten Abend,’ someone calls from the steps leading to the water, interrupting Jensen. Jared turns around to see a woman with long, wavy blonde hair in a white open-necked shirt and dark trousers and coat. She’s sitting on the steps with an open notebook, its pages ruffled by the breeze, a cigarette in one hand.

‘Hi,’ he calls back.

She smiles up at them. ‘English?’

‘Please,’ Jared says, smiling back.

‘I won’t ask you for money. Just a word. Give me a word and I’ll write you a poem. If you like it, you can give me something.’

‘Ken doll,’ Jensen says, deadpan.

‘Ken doll it is.’ Unfazed, she sticks her cigarette in her mouth and bends over her notebook.

‘You’re such a jerk,’ Jared says as they move away to let her work.

‘What can I say? You bring out the worst in me.’ Jensen slides his thumb over Jared’s bottom lip before kissing him, his fingers brushing against the single long silver earring clipped to Jared's left earlobe.

 

7.

 

 

‘You’re so gullible,’ Jensen says, teasing. 

Jared tucks the poem carefully away into his jacket pocket. ‘Laugh all you like. You’re such a fucking cynic.’

‘You know she probably just gives pretty much the same poem to everyone, right?’

‘I don’t care. I think it’s an awesome poem.’

‘You would.’ Jensen kisses the side of Jared’s head, nuzzling his hair for a moment.

The Johann Strauss ship has a cafe on its deck, little white tables with matching chairs and tiny candles floating in wine glasses for light. Jared is instantly charmed. 

Jensen sits across for him and reaches for his hand to press a kiss into his palm. ‘You having a good time?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. You know, this is probably our only night together. After tomorrow morning, we’ll probably never meet again.’

‘You think so?’

‘We should be realistic, right? I live in Paris and you live in California.’

‘Doesn’t mean we can’t call. Or write. Or visit. You aren’t afraid of flying, are you?’

‘No, but… It’s horrible, right? I mean, people exchange numbers all the time. And then there’s one phone call, maybe two emails, and everything fizzles out.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. I hate that.’

‘So it’s settled, then. One night only.’

‘One night only,’ Jensen says easily. ‘But we still have to say goodbye in the morning, and I hate goodbyes.’

‘So say it now. Then we won’t have to in the morning.’

‘Now?’

‘Yeah. Say it.’

‘Goodbye, Jared.’

‘Goodbye, Jensen. See, that was easy.’

‘Now who’s the dork?’ Jensen says. 

 

8.

 

 

The cathedral is huge and dark from the outside, but when they push the doors open, there are lights on the ceiling and at the altar, gently illuminating thousands of frescoes above their heads.

‘Wow, this is so beautiful,’ Jared says softly. 

‘Mm.’ Jensen squeezes his hand as they sit on one of the back pews. ‘Are you religious?’

‘Not really. When I was a kid my parents used to take me to this giant church. It didn’t have frescoes on the ceiling. I might’ve liked it more if it did. It had all these stars—they even got some of the constellations right. But what always bugged me was that the moon was right in the center. It was always there, never moving. As an astronomy buff, I hated the inaccuracies.’

‘Sinner,’ Jensen says with a chuckle.

‘What about you?’

‘There’s this scene in a Hermann Hesse book in which he talks about how he likes to sit in other people’s places of worship, even though he’s not a believer. I guess that’s me.’

‘I like that,’ Jared says, pushing his shoulder against Jensen’s armpit. Jensen wraps his arm around Jared’s shoulders, and they sit quietly for a while.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jensen murmurs after a while.

Jared glances at him. ‘Why?’

Jensen kisses his temple and speaks softly against his skin. ‘Because you’re very close, and I’m having thoughts that are way too inappropriate for this place.’ 

 

9.

 

 

The park is quiet, just their breaths mingling between their mouths as they kiss and kiss. Their wine bottle lies discarded on the grass a few feet away. Jensen slides his hands under Jared’s dress from the back, cupping his ass and squeezing. Between kisses, he murmurs everything into Jared’s mouth that he wants to do with him.

When they wake a couple hours later it’s already past dawn. Jensen groans and buries his face in Jared’s shoulder. ‘I think some part of me actually thought the night would never end.’

‘Then let’s stretch it a little longer.’ 

 

10.

 

 

‘I can hear the mermaids singing, each to each,’ Jensen murmurs. 

‘What?’ Jared squints up at him. They’re at a bench on the balcony of the museum, Jared on his back with his head in Jensen’s lap, his jacket spread out under him, his knees together to keep his dress from flapping around. 

The sun’s moving rapidly up in the sky.

‘I have this recording of Eliot reading ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’,’ Jensen says. His fingers are tangled in Jared’s hair. ‘ _I can hear the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me. We have lingered in the chambers of the sea, by sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown. Till human voices wake us, and we drown._ ’

‘You like the most depressing shit,’ Jared says, leaning up to kiss him. 

‘Where do you see yourself fifty years from now?’ Jensen asks when they part for air.

‘Fifty years? I guess… on a farmhouse somewhere. With a huge library and chickens and horses. And sixteen dogs.’

‘That’s… very specific.’

Jared smiles, his head still in Jensen’s lap. He lifts his hand and runs the tip of his forefinger down Jensen’s forehead, his nose, his lips, his jaw. ‘I like to think I’ll still be waiting for the soufflé to rise. That I’ll still be excited for things, still loving the anticipation, you know?’ 

 

11.

 

 

‘I can’t believe it’s time,’ Jensen says against his lips, his hands on Jared’s waist.

‘Me either.’ Jared’s pressed up close against Jensen. He’s still wearing Jensen’s jacket because Jensen wouldn’t hear of taking it back.

‘Fuck this shit,’ Jensen says into Jared’s mouth when they part from another kiss, his hands buried in Jared’s hair. ‘I don’t want to never see you again. I don’t want to let you get on the train. I want to see you again, I don’t want to—’

‘Oh, thank god,’ Jared says, pulling Jensen into another frantic kiss.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘I didn’t—I wasn’t sure you’d wanna—’ A whistle sounds from somewhere. ‘Fuck.’ Jared presses his forehead to Jensen’s for a moment. 

‘What, then? Should we—you wanna exchange numbers? Email?’

‘Hell no, that’s just depressing. I can’t—don’t want to let this fizzle out.’

‘It won’t,’ Jensen says, making it sound like a promise, sealing it with rough kisses all over Jared’s cheeks, his nose, his jaw. ‘We’ll meet back here, right here on this platform, in—a year?’

‘A year,’ Jared says, clinging to the words like they’re hope. ‘No, fuck, that’s too long. Six months.’

‘Six months. Platform’—Jensen looks around—‘Platform Nine, at eight-thirty in the morning. Six months from now.’

‘Nine, like Nine and Three Quarters,’ Jared can’t help saying.

‘Dork.’ Jensen holds him bone crushingly close for a second. ‘Wear this dress. God, please wear this dress.’

‘I have to—’ Jared pulls himself away to get on the train just as it starts moving. Jensen tosses his bag in after him.

As the train begins to pick up speed, Jared pulls his TARDIS necklace over his head and throws it toward Jensen, who looks up in surprise. The filigreed silver of the chain catches the sun, glowing for a moment as though held up by invisible strings, and then it’s gone.


End file.
